


Tales of soggy Weet-Bix and early mornings

by CalumSmiles (dreamforlife)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Calum doesn't give a shit, Luke is a dork, M/M, Michael also wants to save milk, Michael's a knowing little shit, and Calum hates losing, ashton is a cutie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2635559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamforlife/pseuds/CalumSmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke is in love with Ashton. </p><p>Ashton is in love with Luke. </p><p>But, obviously, neither knows. </p><p>But Michael does.</p><p> </p><p>Or, the one where Luke doesn't sleep, Ashton is shirtless, Michael is a little shit and Calum throws milk when he's upset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tales of soggy Weet-Bix and early mornings

**Author's Note:**

> My first Luke/Ashton fic ^_^
> 
> I couldn't resist, Lashton are adorable :D
> 
> Enjoy!

Luke’s awake.

It’s reaching four in the morning and the sky is pitch black save for a few stars that flicker in the distance. The valley below their LA house sprawls in front of him, streetlights glowing a hazy orange and Luke’s eyes follows them down the streets until they blur into single lines.

There’s a breeze, light and refreshing on his heated skin, as he stands with his forearms braced on the cool metal of the balcony railing, hair falling sluggishly over his forehead, staring out over LA.

Luke’s awake and he knows he should be sleeping. They have a show tomorrow night, or maybe that’s tonight, and he can’t afford to lose sleep.

But he’s still awake.

His hair ruffles as a waft of air shifts around him.

Luke’s awake and he’s thinking about Ashton.

It’s all a bit tragic, really, because of all the clichés that could have happened to him, he’d unwittingly chosen fall for your older, gorgeous, dorky best friend.

And to think it had all started back when he was a tiny, skinny kid, somewhere back in 2012, meeting the new drummer for the first time.

Luke can’t help the smile the pulls his mouth up at the corners, and he tugs at his lip ring to stop it from spreading, because Ashton had been wearing a god-awful purple shirt that day and claimed that FIFA was nothing special and sixteen year old Luke, while being enormously offended for the slight against FIFA, had thought, shit, he’s hot.

From there it’s all downhill.

Ashton’s laughter and honest-to-god giggles are what he lives for, because he’s such a fucking adorable thing, with his 5SOS tattoo and huge biceps and killer dimples.

Luke really doesn’t understand what the universe has against him.

The hair.

Don’t get Luke started on the hair.

And the thing is, Luke could’ve handled it if it was just physical attraction. He’d probably have jerked off a few times and it might have all blown over. But the thing is, Ashton is genuinely a really NICE guy.

He holds doors open and brings people food and worries when they get sick and acts like their father but he’s also the biggest derpy goofball Luke has ever known. Ashton finds joy in the tiniest things, whether it be a good cup of coffee or a piece of art from a fan or a favourite song on the radio, and Luke just really loves that.

But then there’s the Ashton who swears at Michael and Calum for fucking things up in twitcams and around the house, lectures Luke on flooding the bathroom every time he has a shower, has an unhealthy obsession for Mario Kart and swears worse than Louis Tomlinson on a good day when playing Mario Kart.  

Luke tangles his fingers together, grinning to himself.

God, he loves Ashton.

And he knows that it shows on his face, knows that it’s been caught on film over the past few years.

He’s watched enough of their own interviews to know that his eyes always linger on Ashton the longest, that he always laughs at whatever shit that spews out of Ashton’s mouth because he’s a whipped little shit and Ashton’s fucking hilarious, okay.

The sky is lightening to the east and he realises that it’s past five as the pastel blues, pinks and purples bloom across the sky.

“What the fuck are you doing awake?”

Luke turns around, looking at a shirtless Michael standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

“Hey.”

Michael shuffles out, eyes squinting at Luke, scratching his chest, “Look like you’ve been up a while.”

Luke shrugs, “Yeah.”

“Thinking ‘bout Ashton?”

He can feel the heat on the back of his neck and he ducks his head because the answer is painted all over his face.

“You could just tell him, you know.”

Luke’s head jerks up, “What?”

Michael rolls his eyes and reaches over to yank Luke close to him so he can lean on him, “He won’t care.”

Luke snorts and he barely catches what Michael says.

“Who knows, he might even feel the same way.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” Luke demands, pushing the red haired boy to arm’s length and glaring at him.

Michael just smirks, rubbing the stubble on his chin, “Man, I gotta shave.”

“Michael Clifford.”

“That’s my name, babe, don’t wear it out.” The infuriating bastard winks and walks back inside, before calling behind him. “Oh and by the way, it’s your turn to switch on the coffee machine or I will kill you.”

Luke holds back the urge to strangle his friend and stomps inside, flipping the coffee machine on in the kitchen ferociously.

“Fuck you, Michael.” He yells, and kicks the plasterboard wall which resounds hollowly.

Michael’s laughter echoes through the house from upstairs.

“Whoa, Hemmings, what did the wall do to you?” Ashton’s amused voice breaks into his frustration and he turns around, blushing to his hairline.

Ashton’s got the whole I just rolled out of bed and couldn’t be bothered to put on a shirt but that’s okay because I’m hot look down pat and Luke loathes the drum kit for the solid second that his eyes travel up and down over Ashton’s figure.

“Hey, Ash.” He mutters, “Nothing. I hate Michael.”

Ashton chuckles, moving past Luke to get to the fridge, “Doesn’t everyone?”

Luke murmurs something unintelligible as Ashton’s hand slips off his shoulder, but what actually comes out is—

“Come back.”      

He blanches, knocking his hip against the counter, as Ashton turns around with a curious look.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Luke says quickly and frankly, very loudly, “Nothing, I didn’t say anything.”

Ashton’s eyebrow slowly rises up, “Oh yeah? I distinctly heard come back.”

Luke knows he’s blushing worse than he probably ever has in front of the boys and all that really isn’t helped by the Ashton’s near nakedness in the shorts that he’s got on.

“I didn’t say that,” Luke exclaims, and he honestly wishes he could move to Nigeria so he wouldn’t have to deal with this, “I said—I said, I’ll be back.”

Ashton’s lips twitch, “No. No, I heard come back.”

Why isn’t he letting this go?!

Luke hates the universe.

And he thinks, fuck it all, Michael’s in the shower and Calum’s still asleep, and the worst that could happen is Ashton telling him that he doesn’t feel the same way…right?

So before Luke’s even fully come to a decision, his mouth does the work for him.

“I’m in love with you.”

And he almost runs off after that, legs it out of there before he can look at Ashton’s face, but it’s Ashton’s response that glues him to the spot.

Ashton giggles.

Luke blinks twice, slowly, and stares at the drummer.

Ashton’s holding a pot of Vegemite, his hair falling in curls around his head, giggling, shoulders curved forward.

Luke feels offended.

“It’s not funny,” he mutters, flushing.

Ashton’s giggles only get louder.

Something hooks sharp in Luke’s chest and somehow this is worse that Ashton rejecting—

“God, you’re adorable,” Ashton splutters out through his laughter.

Luke stares at him through wide eyes. “What?”

Ashton’s giggles subside and he places the Vegemite on the counter next to him and walks towards Luke, a grin lighting up his face.

Luke backs away, or at least he tries, but there’s a wall behind him.

“Ashton?”

The older boy comes to a stop in front of him, only several inches of air between them.

“You’re an idiot, Luke Hemmings,” Ashton says with a laugh, and now Luke can see the shyness in his expression, the uncertain hunch in his shoulders, the slight quiver in his voice and wonders what it all means.

“What?” He stares down at Ashton’s hazel eyes.

“I’ve been in love with you since you were sixteen, you fool.”

Luke almost trips over himself when he jerks forwards in surprise. “What?”

But he ends up in Ashton’s arm as the drummer stops his fall with a snort of laughter.

“You giant goon,” Ashton murmurs, arms around his waist, and kisses him.

Luke freezes.

Ashton pulls away, staying close enough that his breath is warm against Luke’s open mouth. Hazel eyes lock against wide blue in a hazy stare.

“I swear to god if you say what one more time, I’m going to dump Vegemite into your hair,” Ashton says quietly, his long fingers gripping Luke’s waist hard.

Ashton’s hair is brushing Luke’s forehead and Luke’s hands are clutching at shoulders too hard, his heart wild against his ribs.

“I, uh,” Luke stammers, “What?”

“Oh that’s it,” Ashton’s frustrated huff of laughter resounds as he goes to pull away, reaching behind for the Vegemite and Luke panics, and pulls on the drummer’s neck and smashes their mouths together.

Ashton’s breath hitches, there’s teetering instant where Luke’s stomach flips over and he wonders what the fuck he’s doing.

Luke’s about to let go, to stumble away, and this time definitely run away, when Ashton’s hands curl around Luke’s biceps, dragging him closer, mouth opening. Luke pulls Ashton upward, their tongues sliding together, swallowing the groan that builds up in his throat.

His free hand slips around Ashton’s waist, against the warm skin of his back, sliding up the curve of his spine. Ashton tastes like the mint toothpaste that they all use, like the chocolate that he’d sneaked from Calum’s bottom drawer, like Ashton.

Heat trembles through Luke. He reaches up, tangling both hands in Ashton’s curls, and licks down the line of Ashton’s teeth.

Ashton shivers underneath his hands and bites down on Luke’s lip ring.

It feels like he’s been electrocuted.

When they finally separate, they’re both breathing hard.

“Shit,” Ashton mutters, staring at Luke through dark eyes. “Where the hell did you learn how to kiss like that?”

Luke flushes, biting his lip, and drops his eyes. “Uh…”

Ashton chuckles softly, tilts his chin up and presses his lips to Luke’s. “Go out with me?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out slowly and a grin spreads across his face, dimples pressing into his cheeks, and he brushes his fingers over Ashton’s face. “Yeah.”

It’s only then that they register the applause that’s ringing around the kitchen.

“Brilliant show,” Michael leers at them when they jump apart, “Calum owes me fifty bucks.”

Calum shuffles into the kitchen just as Luke goes to protest, “Why do I owe you fifty bucks, Clifford?”

Michael laughs, “Because dumb and dumber finally sorted out their shit.”

Calum seems to wake up properly at that, eyes widening as he stares at a guilty-looking Ashton and a blushing Luke.

He scowls then, stalking to the cupboard and yanking out a box of Weet-Bix, “I fucking hate you guys, you couldn’t have waited till next month could you?”

“Well, Calum Hood,” Ashton says, drawing himself next to Luke and wrapping an arm around his waist, “It’s not like you can’t spare fifty dollars.”

Luke grins at the filthy look Calum throws at Ashton.

The milk that Calum is pouring sloshes over the side.

“Oi, don’t waste the milk!” Michael jumps at the Kiwi boy, pulling the milk out of his and capping it, “Oh my god, for fuck’s sake, Calum.”

“Fuck the milk,” Calum mutters.

“Fuck you,” Michael retorts.

“Are you offering?” Calum bites back.

Luke hides his laughter in Ashton’s hair, because they have this argument at least thrice a week.

Cold liquid splashes against the two of them seconds after Ashton leans up to kiss Luke, the temperature causing a shirtless Ashton to squeal.

Luke gapes at Calum, who’s holding an empty bowl in his hands, looking self-satisfied, as milk drips down the side of his face and off the ends of his hair.

“What the fuck, Calum?” Ashton groans, lifting up a strand of his soaked hair.

“Calum, you fucker, you wasted good cereal!” Michael growls and dives at Calum, pushing him to the floor.

Luke and Ashton stare incredulously at each other over their two grappling best friends.

“I really hate this band,” Luke says mournfully, pulling his milky t-shirt away from his sticky body.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Ashton mutters in exasperation, and then turns around when he gets to the doorway, a sly smile on his face. “You know, I know a great way to save water.”

A grin spreads across Luke’s face and he doesn’t hesitate to run after a laughing Ashton, leaving Calum and Michael brawling in a puddle of milk and soggy Weet-bix.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are much appreciated! :) 
> 
> Find me on tumblr at: aneverendingreplay
> 
> Come and say hello!


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